


Three Horrifying Cases of Ghosts and Demons

by cc tinslebee (Doitlikeagreaser)



Series: Les Amis des Non Résolus [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bahorel and Feuilly Swear, Bossuet's Terrible Luck, Buzzfeed Unsolved Supernatural, Foreshadowing, Gen, Hypochondria, Inspired by Buzzfeed Unsolved, Les Amis de l'ABC - Freeform, M/M, Non-Binary Jean Prouvaire, Other, Poor Joly, Supernatural Elements, Witch Jean Prouvaire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24814426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doitlikeagreaser/pseuds/cc%20tinslebee
Summary: In this episode of Les Amis des Unsolved, five of their members -- believers, skeptics, and neutrals alike -- investigate three disturbing cases in the North American area in order to answer the question: can ghosts and demons harm the living?
Relationships: Bahorel & Feuilly (Les Misérables), Bahorel/Feuilly (Les Misérables), Enjolras & Grantaire (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Feuilly & Joly & Jean Prouvaire, Joly & Bossuet Laigle, Joly & Jean Prouvaire, Joly/Bossuet Laigle, Montparnasse/Jean Prouvaire
Series: Les Amis des Non Résolus [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794877
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Winchester House

“Is it rolling? Are we rolling, Eponine?”

Eponine Thenardier sighed exhaustedly from behind the camera, _“Yes, Enjolras._ We’re rolling.”

“Okay, that’s good. We’re good--” Enjolras fumbled as Grantaire watched him compose himself. “Today on Les Amis des Non Résolus, our team will be covering multiple cases and visiting some of the most haunted, horrifying places in North America in an effort to answer some questions that I’ve always been curious about, personally,” he rambled. “Are ghosts and demons real, and if they are real, can they manipulate, harm, and perhaps even kill the living?”

Granatire smiled and shook his head to himself.

Enjolras continued, “Right now, we’re still in France, where Grantaire and I will be speaking to Bishop Charles-François-Bienvenu Myriel. Bishop Myriel has had extensive experience with not only helping his community and those in need, but also the paranormal.” 

Grantaire leaned in a little closer to the camera, “For those of you who don’t know: we’re not actually ghost hunters. Combeferre and Courfeyrac thought it would be a good marketing tactic for us to get some name and face recognition for Enjolras’s activist group by doing this.”

Enjolras pulled him back, _“Basically,_ this guy’s the real deal. We’re going to be happy that we talked to him and had his guidance when our team goes to some of these places.”

Grantaire nodded. “Yeah, I think so. We better stock up on some knowledge here, otherwise we’re gonna get _murdered_ by _ghosts,”_ he teased.

Enjolras pressed his lips together in frustration, but held his composure, “You’re going to be thankful that we’re meeting this guy later, I promise you.” He looked confidently at Grantaire, “I promise you that you will regret that statement.”

Grantaire chuckled, “You’re on.”

Eponine then ushered the pair into the church, where Bishop Myriel awaited them.

“Welcome,” Myriel greeted them, warmly. “Please, come sit.”

Enjolras and Grantaire were led to the pews. Myriel sat down comfortably on one while Enjolras and Grantaire sat together on the one in front of it, turning around to face him.

“First off, thank you for meeting with us, Monseigneur Bienvenu,” Enjolras extended his hand to him.

“Sure,” Myriel replied, softly, shaking his hand politely.

“I’ve read a lot about you,” Enjolras said, “We really appreciate it.”

“Oh, thanks.” He then looked to Grantaire and extended his hand to him as well. Grantaire, too busy watching Enjolras, realised this and shook Myriel’s hand just in time.

“So, how many exorcisms have you performed over the course of your career?” Enjolras inquired.

“Formal exorcisms, I’ve probably performed fifty to seventy-five in ten years,” Myriel replied, calmly.

Enjolras’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow, and, uh, what is the difference between a ghost and a demon in your professional opinion?”

“A ghost would refer to a disembodied human soul,” Myriel answered. “A _demon_ is a preternatural angelic creature that rebelled against God.”

“It’s not human,” Enjolras verified.

“No, it’s not,” Myriel agreed. “Their life form is dying; they have been dying since the moment they rebelled. And so they are attracted to human beings for two reasons. One, because they are a parasite and they feed off our life form. Secondly, their goal is to take as many of us to hell with them as possible, because they already know they’ve lost.”

Enjolras went to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I’m not trying to scare you--” Myriel quickly reassured.

“Oh, no, I just got a shiver down my spine,” Enjolras blurted. “So, can a ghost and demon both possess, or maybe influence the living?”

“Yes,” Myriel answered, solemnly, “and I’ve had those cases. Where are these homes you’re going into?” he asked.

“One of them is actually the Winchester Mystery House out in California,” Enjolras told him. “Essentially it’s a haunted mansion. And then the next one is a haunted doll island in Mexico City. The last place is perhaps the scariest; it’s a house infested with a demon.”

Bishop Myriel nodded, comprehensively.

“Do you have any advice for us going into some of these places where we may come into contact with not-so-nice spirits?” Enjolras inquired.

Myriel looked fleetingly at Eponine, “Are we still on camera?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Myriel thought, “If these places you’re going to claim to have spiritual attachments, I would do nothing to invite them into any kind of conversation. I would do nothing to invite them to somehow show themself or taunt them in any way. You do not want to create a tie with them,” he warned. 

“So treat it like a fine art museum,” Grantaire commented.

“I would,” Myriel agreed.

“Would it be possible for you to perhaps bless some water or something for me to carry?” Enjolras asked, always the believer.

“Yes,” Myriel replied with little hesitation. “Do you have something?”

Enjolras nodded and pulled something out from his pocket. “It’s literally just a water bottle,” he admitted, musingly.

“That’s fine, I can bless it,” Bishop Myriel assured. Enjolras and Grantaire watched as he began to bless the water bottle in Enjolras’s hand.

When he was done, Enjolras put his water bottle away. “Thank you for sitting down with us,” Enjolras said, a weight lifted off of his shoulder.

Myriel shook Enjolras’s hand again. “Was this helpful?”

 _“Fascinating,”_ Grantaire grinned, shaking his hand as well.

“This was really helpful and I feel a lot better about what’s about to happen,” Enjolras admitted with a s mile.

“Good, good,” said Myriel in his quiet tone.

“You’re smiling,” Eponine remarked, still filming as they exited the church. “You never smile.”

“I _smile,”_ Enjolras countered quickly. “I just feel so comforted right now, and where the team’s about to go, it’s going to be the exact opposite, so…”

“Yeah,” Grantaire admitted.

“You’re not worried about that at all?” Enjolras remarked, a little unnerved at Grantaire’s cool composure.

“No,” Grantaire shrugged simply.

Enjolras sighed something incoherent out of exacerbation. 

“But to be fair, _we’re_ not the ones who are doing the ghost hunting this episode,” Grantaire reminded him. “So it’s Joly and Feuilly we should be worried about.”

“And Jehan. And Bossuet and Bahorel,” Enjolras added. He shook his head, “But you’re right. I’m not sure if we got this on camera, but he told me, _do not be afraid,”_ Enjolras conceded. 

_“I mean, I won’t lie, I’m very scared, but--”_

_“Okay. Do not be afraid.”_

“If anything happens, to any of us at any time,” Enjolras thought, “just do not be afraid. That’s all you have to keep repeating. He said it a bunch of times in the Bible.”

Grantaire nodded, seemingly completely seriously, “Jesus said chill.”

Enjolras laughed genuinely, “Jesus said chill. Yeah, sure.”

They cut to Enjolras and Grantaire in one of their apartments. Eponine was in the background on a computer, but they were in front of a camera.

“Okay, so Joly and Bossuet are currently in California about to investigate the Winchester House,” Enjolras explained to the camera. “They’ve been there for a couple of nights now and this is their last free day before they have to go check it out.”

Grantaire gestured behind him, “Eponine is back there sending the footage from our visit with Bishop Myriel to them to refer to before they head out.”

"Joly is our team's main medic, but also a firm believer that there's life after death," Enjolras continued. "Bossuet, while superstitious, is skeptical about the existence of ghosts. They're joined by our resident witch, Jehan Prouvaire, who, along with Combeferre and Courfeyrac, helps me research and compile the facts of each case."

“So without further ado, here’s part one of our three horrifying cases of ghosts and demons.”

* * *

Joly was in the backseat of a car being driven down in California. Jehan had entrusted Bossuet with the camera while they drove, which, naturally, was a bad idea. Bossuet had nearly dropped the camera three times by now; Joly had caught it the third time and carefully guided it back into position.

Continuing to hold the camera with Bossuet, Joly started explaining to the later viewers, “Alright, right now we’re on our way to the Winchester House.”

Jehan parked the car, “May I have the camera back, Boss?”

“Sure thing!” Bossuet replied, handing the camera back to Jehan, a little more carefully this time before getting out of the car with Joly.

“Eponine sent us the video last night of Enj and R meeting with the bishop,” Joly continued to Jehan this time.

“We don’t have our holy water, but we got our tips,” Bossuet chuckled. “Our demon tips.”

The three walked from the small parking lot towards the house. 

“This ought to be a really terrifying place to get such notoriety,” Jehan commented, absentmindedly, nearly bumping into Bossuet’s shoulder when the pair they were filming stopped suddenly. They stepped ahead of them and panned from the nice looking house to Joly and Bossuet, who appeared a little shocked.

“Uhh…” Joly narrowed his eyes at the house.

“This looks like DisneyLand!” Bossuet exclaimed, honestly. He started moving around to see the house better, “I wouldn’t be surprised if they got cotton candy in there.”

“Sure, sure,” Joly said, sarcastically. “You’re really enjoying this, but when the lights go off, things might be a little different here.”

Even Jehan had to admit, “This is beautiful!”

Joly, a bit frustrated with how Bossuet wasn’t taking this seriously, ushered Bossuet in the house. As the sun set behind the trees, Jehan waited a little longer to catch a shot of the house in the dark, which held the intended appeal. It was a lot spookier at night, going from one of those cool, but weird older houses to a mansion that appeared to be holding much more sinister things than it let on.

Jehan quickly left after that and caught up with the pair just as Joly and Bossuet started entering the Winchester bedroom.

Joly shone his flashlight into the room, hitting the bed just right. “Ah, man…” he whispered.

Bossuet and Jehan entering the room gave it enough light to illuminate Joly and closer parts of the room. Joly whirled around, marveling at the eerie, old furniture. They thought they almost saw him shiver at one point.

“You are full of shit if you do not feel strange right now,” Joly remarked to Bossuet, a bit louder this time.

“No, I don’t,” Bossuet responded, honestly.

Joly shook his head, exasperated, “You’re such a fucking shyster, dude." He looked to Jehan for support, "Jehan?”

Jehan nodded from behind the camera and observed the room quietly, “I’m with you, Joly. I’m getting some spooky vibes.”

 _“Thank you,”_ Joly sighed before shivering suddenly. “The hair on the back of my neck is standing up, man. This is crazy.”

Jehan noticed and gestured over to a set of chairs, “How about we set up the informative part of the segment over there?”

Joly nodded and led Bossuet over to the small table, where they angled the chairs to face Jehan and the camera.

“Right now, we’re sitting in the bedroom of Sarah Winchester, who built this mansion as the result of a terrible tragedy,” Joly explained to the camera. He laughed uncomfortably, “Sarah actually passed away in this very room, in that bed right there.”

“Hell of a bed,” Bossuet remarked, lightly. “I assure you in, like, half of the places you’ve been, people have died there. People have probably died in the tavern we usually drink at back in France.”

“Let’s just not think about that,” Joly digressed quickly.

“Okay,” Bossuet nodded. “So what happened here, Joly?”

“Basically, from Enjolras, Combeferre, and Jehan’s _diligent_ research,” Joly started, “We know that there was a woman by the name of Sarah, who married into this Winchester family, right?”

“Right.”

“So, her father-in-law manufactured and sold a repeating rifle, which served as the ultimate weapon of death in wars to come,” Joly continued. “Death followed Sarah for pretty much all of her marriage to William Winchester; their first daughter died only a month after birth, her father-in-law died, and then William took over the rifle company but shortly after, contracted tuberculosis.”

Bossuet shook his head, “Yikes.”  
  
Joly gaped at him, trying to stifle his joking tone, “That was the most disingenuous--”

Bossuet laughed, “No! That was-- that was real!”

“Okay, okay,” Joly submitted. “So, those were the facts. The _legend_ is that, naturally, Sarah was distraught by her husband’s death, and some people say that she reached out to spiritualists and mediums in Boston to help her understand the deaths of her loved ones. Many believe that one such medium told Sarah that her family was being haunted by those killed by the Winchester rifle, and was therefore cursed. It was said that the only way to lift the curse was to move west and never stop building a house.

Bossuet wheezed, “Well… I think I know the end of this story, Joly.”

Joly laughed, “I’m sure you do, Boss.”

Jehan smiled at their friends. “Some say that the good spirits would guide her on what to build, and if she continued building, she would gain immortality.” Jehan’s voice then sported an eerie tone to it, “But if she stopped, the evil spirits that were victims of the Winchester rifle would haunt Sarah forever.”

Bossuet rolled his eyes, “If you can live forever: great. _But if you have to continue to build a house that entire time?_ Unless you’re having fun, which I _don’t_ think she was--”

“Well, she wasn’t, like, putting on a hard hat and physically making the house herself,” Joly pointed out. “She was… delegating.”

“Well then that’s why she didn’t live forever!” Bossuet exclaimed, looking from Joly to Jehan with realisation. “‘Cause she found a loophole!”

Joly smacked his forehead and wheezed, “I won’t argue that your logic is flawed, I just hate it because it’s detrimental to my argument.”

Bossuet shrugged and smiled, “It’s fine. So how many rooms does this bad boy have?”

“People say there were around five hundred to maybe six hundred rooms built?” Joly replied. “But Sarah remodeled a lot, so only one hundred and sixty-one rooms remain.”

“One of which was only recently discovered in 2016!” Jehan added.

Bossuet seemed impressed by that, but added, “You think the ghosts just checked in every, like, three to five years?”

Joly burst into laughter, “Checked her timecard--?”

“Like, _‘we should see if she’s still building that, otherwise we gotta kill her,’”_ Bossuet imitated with a grin.

Joly wheezed again, “Nice one, Boss--”

Bossuet grinned, “So, this place has to be pretty huge for it to be this famous, right?”

“Actually, what’s fascinating about this house isn’t the size of any of the rooms,” Jehan explained, an interested twinkle in their eye. “It’s actually how peculiar it was constructed. The walkways are narrow, and twist and turn around the mansion; there are stairs that lead to the ceiling; doors that open into brick walls. There’s one instance where a second floor door opens to a sheer drop on the outside of the house! Some people say it was built to confuse the spirits that may have wanted to hurt Sarah.”

Bossuet nodded, interestedly, “What are some possible theories here?”

“Sarah was known to have arthritis that affected her late in her life, so that might have contributed to how the house was left unfinished,” Joly offered. “There’s also a hallway lined with fireplaces, which some think was there to aid her arthritis. Maybe with things like the unfinished staircase, she possibly saw no reason to complete it.”

“Still doesn’t explain the door leading to nowhere, though,” Jehan added.

“No one is building a house like this because they have arthritis,” Bossuet admitted.

“I mean, _I_ certainly wouldn’t,” Joly reminded him, “But this is a theory -- I’m just stating a theory.”

“No one says, _‘oh, my knuckles are feeling a little funny. I’m going to build a house with 500 rooms.’”_

Jehan chuckled slightly.

“I-- I hear you, man,” Joly stammered, “I agree with you. I’m just saying, this is a theory that people believe… and I’m relaying the theory.”

“Those people are idiots.”

“I mean, you know what the doctor says,” Jehan quipped to Bossuet, pointing at Joly, “Nothing’s better for arthritis than a two-story drop to the floor down below, right?”

Bossuet laughed, “Right, yeah.”

Joly cleared his throat, “Another theory is that Sarah needed a change of scenery, and continued to build to keep her mind occupied and off her grief.”

“Now _that,”_ Bossuet admitted, “Yeah. Maybe she just wasn’t very good at planning.”

Joly raised an eyebrow at him, “And she did that for her entire life.”

“Yeah,” Bossuet nodded, not seeing any problem with the theory, “for her entire life.”

Jehan and Joly looked at each other.

Bossuet shrugged, “Hey, we all need hobbies.”

“There’s also a theory that she was just really into architecture, supported by the fact that construction would stop for varying times and that some unfinished rooms might because of an earthquake back in 1906,” Jehan offered. 

“The damages might have been irreversible and she might have chosen to terminate all construction on the part of the house,” Joly added with a nod. “Didn’t the historian who brought up this theory also say that she found no evidence of Sarah ever communicating with spirits?”

Jehan nodded, “Although, I will say, I can’t imagine communicating with spirits produces any kind of receipt.”

Bossuet shook his head, “No. Nobody has evidence of that.”

“Okay, I’m just saying that I call bullshit on that,” Jehan justified, a little defensively.

“That’d be--yeah. I… I agree with your calling of bullshit,” Bossuet clarified.

“Good!” Jehan seemed triumphant. “I’m glad that at least _one_ pair of skeptics and believers in this group can agree on something for once.”

“Yeah, we’ve done it,” Bossuet grinned. “We’ve done what Enjolras and Grantaire could _never.”_

“We’ve done it!” Joly exclaimed. “Great, let’s go home now--”

Bossuet laughed, “Not so fast, Jollly. We haven’t even investigated the house yet.”

Joly lowered his head, “I know…”

“Shall we look at some of the spiritually active areas of this very unsettling house?” Jehan quipped with a smile as bright as ever.

“Yeah, sure,” Bossuet stood up from his chair. “Let’s get this over with.”

Joly sighed and got up himself.

Jehan followed Joly and Bossuet’s lead up the functioning staircase, only for Joly to make a terrified comment.

“Oh, this room looks like a nightmare, that’s fun.”

“There’s a few rooms in this house that strike me as, 'okay, this is a ghost town, this could be it,'” Bossuet admitted.

Before going up to the loft, Jehan nodded towards a door, “Wanna check that one out?”

Joly and Bossuet shared a glance. “Sure, why not? Just stay behind me, Boss,” Joly advised.

Joly carefully opened the old door, revealing the outside ground below. Joly kept his arm on the side of the door where Bossuet was behind him to shield him from falling.

“I can’t imagine a ghost would get foiled into falling into those bushes down there,” Joly almost laughed, “but the thought is nice.”

Bossuet did laugh, “I would.”

Joly chuckled at that, “Yeah, you would.”

Joly carefully backed away from the threshold and closed it, “Thanks for that, Jehan.”

Jehan smiled from behind the camera, “Anytime.”

The group then trekked up to the loft, where the wooden walls and their support beams were abundant and their rectangular windows were all in a diligent diagonal formation. Bossuet and Joly looked around the room using their flashlights until Joly suddenly raised his flashlight towards the ceiling.

“Oh, the way the shadows play with your mind,” Bossuet taunted lightly, tapping his temple with his index finger as he coyly moved right beside Joly.

“Well, I didn’t _see_ something, I _heard_ something,” Joly replied, defensively. “I heard a noise right up there.”

“Probably bats!”

“That’s _also_ a concern. I mean, do you _know_ all the things bats can carry?” Joly worried. He digressed, “But--”

“Oh, bats are normal,” Bossuet shrugged simply.

Joly sighed musingly, “Ugh, this fucking guy.”

“Alright, you two, calm down.” Jehan shook their head. “Come on, there’s another place you need to check out.”

Jehan led them to an interesting looking square room, with white walls and blue trimming as far as the eye can see.

“Okay, Jehan, what’s the story here?” Bossuet asked.

“This room is known to many as the Blue Room,” Jehan explained, marveling at their surroundings. “It’s particularly important because it’s speculated that Sarah would use this room to communicate with the good spirits on a nightly basis for building guidance. The room has three entrances and you’ll notice only one door, that’s like a trap door down into the kitchen. It’s _the_ most active room in the house with reports of organ music being heard, cold spots, and some people feeling dizzy in it.”

Bossuet and Joly started looking around the room as Jehan went on. Suddenly, Joly’s own camera made a ping, causing him to look at it.

Confused, Joly tapped at its screen and searched through his pockets.

“What is it?” Bossuet asked, moving closer to Joly.

“I just took out a brand new battery,” Joly explained, distraught, “I just took off the plastic from it and put it in, and it drained it all the way to zero.”

“This is highly unusual,” Bossuet faux-admitted, “I’ve never seen it do this before.”

Joly shook his head, “I'm just going to ignore you and fix the issue.”

Bossuet shrugged and wandered away from Joly, eventually finding a closet. He looked at Jehan behind the camera as he began closing the door. “I’m gonna lock myself in here with a ghost.”

The door clicked shut as the focus shifted to the camera strapped on Bossuet’s chest. He turned his flashlight off and looked around the very small space.

“Well this is horrifying,” Bossuet commented. “I bet Joly wouldn’t do this.”

A minute later, Joly was the one in the small closet space, the door being slammed shut behind him and the filming Jehan.

“Oh fucking come on, man,” Joly sighed, irratably. Bossuet laughed from the other side of the wall.

For a second, Joly was silent and apprehensive, when suddenly a hard knocking echoed against the door, causing him to jump.

Joly laughed stressfully, and said quietly, “Goddamnit, I knew he was gonna go that and it still scared me. Fuck you.”

Bossuet laughed again from the other side.

“Alright, you two, cut it out,” Jehan exclaimed. “We still have to check out the basement.”

“Oh god, not the basement,” Joly breathed.

Jehan ushered them out of the séance room, “It’s the most active place in the house. Plenty of people report seeing the apparition of a caretaker named Clyde pushing a wheelbarrow.”

Jehan insisted that they should investigate the basement separately, with them following, of course. Joly was none too pleased.

“Why I’m walking here by my fucking self is beyond me,” Joly glared back at Jehan as he shone his torch around the area. He tensely darted the light every which way at every conceivable moving shadow and crevasse, “Fuck, I’m so scared.”

He took a few more turns in the basement filled with grey bricks and rusty pipes before he stopped briefly again. 

“Alright, apparently this is where a recurring ghost is seen.” He looked back to Jehan again, who gestured for him to continue going further. Reluctantly, he did.

Joly followed along the straight path, careful not to take any of the turns in interest of not getting lost. He was so diligent to keep his light forward and pay attention to the area he was stepping forward to that when a low and raspy sigh echoed from the left tunnel, Joly immediately jumped and started screaming in a panic.

Jehan quickly turned the camera into the tunnel where Joly was now shining his light into, revealing not a ghost, but rather Bossuet, hunched over to fit his height.

“What are you--” Bossuet laughed, “Calm down, man.”

“You piece of shit, Boss,” Joly yelled, desperately trying to return his breathing and his pulse back to normal.

“My mic went out, and then I was looking for you,” Bossuet tried to explain, but Joly was adamant.

“He’s crouching in here like some kind of cave creature!” Joly retorted.

“And then _all_ I did was go--” Bossuet recreated the raspy breath that scared Joly not a minute before. “To say hello to you!”

“Oh, yeah,” Joly remarked, sarcastically. “You’re looking for me while grunting like a zombie.”

Bossuet shrugged.

Joly continued to not let it go as they began to find their way out of the basement. 

“You almost scared me to death,” Joly said, accusingly. “I’m never going to forgive you for that.” He cracked a grin, “I hope you’re fucking proud of yourself.”

Bossuet giggled a little under his breath, “I thought you saw me.”

 _“Bullshit,”_ Joly laughed, “you thought I saw you.”  
  
“I really didn’t think it was going to work,” Bossuet admitted.

The group of pseudo-ghost hunters returned to Winchester’s bedroom and sat down again.

“Sarah seemingly lived a life of solitude, even reportedly wearing a dark veil at all times to mask her appearance,” Jehan wrapped up. “In 1922, she died at the age of 83. In the end, the questions still remains: was this just the result of a woman filled with grief? Or, were the evil spirits that haunted Sarah Winchester so horrifying that they drove her to build until her death?”

“She probably believed that spirits did say this to her,” Bossuet remarked. “Whether or not that’s a thing that actually happened, I--you know."

“So, you’re saying, it’s more along the lines of grief that produced it, perhaps,” Joly offered.

“Yeah. Something like that,” Bossuet nodded. “I mean, she went through some pretty harrowing stuff.”

“Let me asking you right now,” Joly said, trying to suppress his laughter, “Do you believe ghosts are real right now?”

Bossuet laughed, “Uh, no.”

“Why don’t you believe ghosts are real?”

“I’ve never seen one,” Bossuet answered, simply. “You know me, Joly, I’m a very superstitious person on account of my terrible luck, but ghosts? No.”

“Okay, I mean, there’s a lot of things that you can’t see that are real, I feel like,” Joly countered.

Bossuet thought for a moment, “What can’t I see?”

“You can’t see gravity, that’s real.”

“Yeah, I can drop an apple,” Bossuet retorted.

“Fuck,” Joly sighed, causing Bossuet to laugh.

“I guess you’ll never believe me until something happens,” Joly remarked, defeatedly. “And even then.”

“Look, hey, this entire trip? I’m ready,” Bossuet mused. “Hey, ghosts, tussle their hair! Uhh, gimme a little purple nurple or something, let’s have some fun.”

 _“Purple nurple,”_ Joly wheezed.

“Isn’t this exactly what Monseigneur Bienvenue said not to do…” Jehan whispered to themself, dumbfounded.

“Here I am!” Bossuet called out, unaware of this. “I’m so proud of Sarah Winchester for doing this, by the way. It’s really something.”

Joly shook his head, half-jokingly, “You’re the worst.”

“No, I genuinely-- Like, this is neat!”

“If I have to spend one more moment sitting in this chair, looking at that silly face,” Joly gestured wildly, “I think I may murder you myself.” He laughed.

Jehan’s eyes widened, “Alright, we’re getting out of here--”

Joly stood up almost immediately, “Yeah, let’s leave this house.”


	2. The Island of Dolls

The following morning, Joly, Bossuet, and Jehan were all getting ready to leave their hotel to their next destination.

Joly panned the camera around the room to show Bossuet with his bags and Jehan packing the rest of their items. “We’re checking out of San Jose right now.”

“Onward!” Bossuet called, a hint of tiredness in his voice.

“Onward to, uh, Mexico,” Joly elaborated. 

“Yeah, why not?”

Jehan perked up in the background, “Joly and I are going to meet Feuilly and Gavorche over in Xochimilco, Mexico for the next installment of this trilogy, and Bossuet is getting a headstart on an upcoming episode in San Antonio.”

“Musichetta is visiting some of her family down there, so once I’m done there, I’ll be joining Boss and Chetta for some good old fashion legend hunting,” Joly added.

They didn’t film much at the airport, but a few clips of Jehan opening the shade of their seats’ window much to the dismay of Joly as well as Bossuet sleeping soundly would be put into the final cuts of their video.

When they finally got off the plane, Jehan turned the camera back on and made Joly explain what they were doing next as they were walking out of the airport.

“So, we’re in Mexico, so that’s pretty cool,” said a post-flight rattled Joly. “Uh, we don’t have to go to our next horrible destination until tomorrow, so I think we’re going to meet up with Feuilly and Gav, and enjoy the city a little bit tonight.”

And enjoy the city they did. Feuilly and Gavroche had already made themselves acquainted with the city they were visiting, and showed them the shops for food and other goods that they deemed the best. Joly was hesitant at first; he worried over the sanitation of the food these vendors were selling. Feuilly assured him though that these people were merely hard working folks that he had bought from for days without any stomach trouble, and that seemed to put Joly at ease ever so slightly.

After a few drinks at a local bar, Joly stumbled into the bathroom with his phone. He directed it towards the bathroom mirror as he recorded, but moved its direction around a bit as he spoke, “I don’t know if this is a sign, but I’m in the bathroom at this bar, and this mirror literally has blood dripping from it.” He panned from the mirror above the sink to a longer mirror that had thick red lines dripping down it. “That can’t be sanitary. But I’m gonna go order another beer, so we’re good.”

A little while after, the group was just about to leave the bar when Joly pulled out his phone again. This time he was filming in front of him.

“We’re getting a drink in Mexico, and we ran into the Grim from Harry Potter,” he panned to a dark grey dog sitting outside of the bar calmly. Jehan laughed, none too soberly, behind him.

“This is crazy!” 

* * *

The next day, Jehan and Joly got up and ready for their next trip. Bossuet gave Joly a kiss goodbye as he left to meet up with Musichetta; Feuilly and Gavroche had left much earlier to  Xochimilco to get everything all ready for them at the dock. All that was left to do was for Joly and Jehan to make their way to them.

“Mexico City is such a nice city,” Joly marveled as they were driven from city to town. 

“Yeah, it is,” Jehan agreed, filming him like Bossuet had.

Joly turned away from the window and looked at Jehan with an expression filled with amusement and worry. “Jehan, we’re on our way to a nightmare.”

_ “You’re  _ on your way to a nightmare,” Jehan countered. “I’m on my way to a nice retreat.”

Joly laughed in spite of himself, “Okay, we’ll see.”

The car dropped them off in  Xochimilco, where they would have to find their way to the dock from there. After a few minutes of walking, Jehan and Joly found themselves on a cart being led around by a bicycle.

A very nervous Joly held the camera now and filmed Jehan, shakily. “Right now, we’re, uh, we’re being carted over to the dock,” he explained.

“We were just sort of put on here,” Jehan added.

“I guess that’s how easy it is to trick us,” Joly mused nervously.

They both laughed, “Yeah.”   


_ “Get on! Get on! Get on!”  _ Joly acted out hurriedly. He then lowered his voice to sound dopey,  _ “Okay.” _

At that moment, the cart ran over a bump in the road just as another cart came from another corner, causing Joly and Jehan both to jump.

“Oh fuck--” Joly shouted. “That was almost a two bike trolley collision right there.”

They came to a stop for a moment due to foot traffic a little while after. Joly lowered his voice, “So, uh, I’m actually not quite sure where we are right now.”

“No, it’s fine,” Jehan said. “Just go with the flow, Joly.”

“That’s what people usually say on the way to their death.”

While Joly and Jehan were trying to survive their cart ride, Feuilly and Gavroche had finished the final touches of what they needed prepared for their arrival. Feuilly then pulled out his phone for his last task before they set off.   


Feuilly hit record on his phone camera, “So, Enjolras and R wanted me to just talk about my sort of role in the group, since this is my first official appearance on camera. My name’s Feuilly, and I am also a believer in the paranormal. Like most things, I usually like to take my belief with a grain of salt because you can never be too sure. I think I’m going to end up having to be the more skeptical one here considering this is Joly and Jehan we’re talking about.

“Joly’s usually very similar to me in the respects of not believing everything we hear, but he’s so jumpy that it tends to play a huge role in his inability to be skeptical,” Feuilly explained. “Jehan’s different though, because they’re  _ super  _ into this stuff already on top of being Pagan. What’s interesting is that so is Grantaire; I’m pretty sure he said that he has Dionysus as a patron god and Jehan has Persephone? I’m not sure, but they’re both really into that; Grantaire just refuses to admit the existence of ghosts or demons. I swear he’s just doing it to get on Enjolras’s nerves.”

With that, Joly and Jehan’s cart finally got to its destination safely. Joly, a little woozy from the ride, stumbled out with Jehan behind him. Feuilly sat them both down on the plastic chairs he had provided for them and they set off on the canal.

“So, we survived our little trolley over here,” Joly said with relief. “We’re joined by Feuilly and Gavorche, who have been stationed here for a week, getting acquainted with the area. Right now, we’re on the outskirts of Mexico City in the ancient Aztec canals of Xochimilco heading to our second location, the terrifying Island of the Dolls.” Joly laughed, nervously, “This was a mistake. Oh yeah, there’s also a thunderstorm about to roll in, so that’s fun.”

Feuilly shrugged, indifferently.

“I mean, he looks fine. Look at,” Joly pointed to Gavorche on the other end, “the kid’s fine. And now I feel like a big weenie.”

Gavroche rolled his eyes and dropped what looked like a piece of paper into the canal.

“You are a big weenie,” Feuilly joked.

“It’s been said that people don’t like these canals due to the bad energy,” Jehan interrupted. “Those who navigate the canals claim that the dolls try to  _ lure  _ them to the island. One traveller even claims that he became possessed for multiple days when approaching the island.”

“Do you feel lured, Joly?” quipped Feuilly.

Joly shook his head, “No, not really. I actually still feel quite queasy from the cart ride.”

Feuilly and Joly carefully stood up from their chairs and approached the front of their boat. Jehan followed them close behind, making sure to get several shots of the two looking over the dark water framed. by several overgrown trees.

Joly turned to Jehan and smiled nervously, “This is the beginning of a horror movie right here.”

When they docked at the island, Gavroche and Jehan got off first, giving Jehan and Joly both an opportunity to film the different perspectives of stepping onto the island.

“Well, we’re here and it’s raining,” Joly noted, his hoodie already up. “Lovely. Shall we?”

Feuilly clapped his hands together as he observed the area, “Yep.”

“You go first.”   


“Oh,  _ I  _ go first?” Feuilly chuckled, confused as he stepped through the shabbily made threshold. “There’s a very ominous cloud in the sky,” Feuilly noted, “Some very, very atmospheric thunder.”

“Don’t say that, dude!” Joly’s eyes widened in mock terror, before he got a good look at the entrance and the expression turned very much real. “Well, this seems all horrible and awful.”

“So this is,” Feuilly thought, “Wow.”

“You’re speechless!”   


“Someone  _ actually  _ committed their life to this.”

“Look: there’s spiders everywhere, so that’s nice,” Joly croaked, his face draining of colour.

“See, I’m more concerned about the spiders than the ghosts,” Feuilly admitted. 

“Is that right?”   


“Yeah. The ghosts seem to be chiller in this place than most.”   


Jehan and Joly both laughed.

Gavroche and Feuilly set up shop underneath some shelter as they all waited for night to fall. Jehan and Joly wandered around the entrance solely before Joly nearly ran into one of the old, browning dolls to his horror. (Jehan  _ definitely  _ caught that one on camera.)

“The island is not as pleasant at night."   
  
Joly’s remark wasn’t too far off. The trees now loomed over the island like ominous silhouettes and the dolls’ pale forms hug from almost every nook and cranny of the island, making it nearly impossible to venture without seeing one in the corner of your eye or right in front of you.

“So, uh, Jehan, Joly, care to explain what’s up with this place?”

Jehan nodded and led them over to a place where the other three could sit down.

“So, essentially there was this guy who was persecuted for being really religious,” Joly explained off the top of his head. “For unknown reasons, he left his family and moved to this island.”   
  
“The island we’re sitting on is a chinampa,” Jehan continued, “Which is a man-made floating garden that was engineered by the Aztecs."

Gavroche nodded his head, “Dope.”

“I’m sure they’d be thrilled with what it’s become,” Feuilly remarked facetiously. 

“You think this is what they had in mind?” Joly mused.

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

Joly jumped slightly, “Oh, monkey!”

Feuilly turned his head, “Monkey?”

“Nah, I just thought I got bit in the ass check by a spider,” Joly clarified, worriedly checking again. “There’s a lot of spiders here.”

“Yeah, they’re huge,” Gavroche marveled around him.

_ “Anyway,”  _ Jehan continued, not unkindly, “The story goes that he lived here in isolation until one day he discovered the body of a young girl off the shore of the island. He was reportedly so overwhelmed with grief and guilt. Legend has it that shortly after she was found, a doll appeared in the exact same spot. He thought the doll might have belonged to the girl, so he hung it up on a tree on the island.”   


Feuilly furrowed his brow, “That seems a little weird. Why would he do that?”   
  
“Well, the theories on  _ why  _ vary,” Jehan admitted. “Some believe he did it to honour her spirit while others thought he wanted to appease the spirit and protect the island and himself. But some say that he did it to protect her spirit from demons in the afterlife. Whatever the reason, her existence was never officially confirmed.”   
  
“Okay,” Feuilly nodded before suddenly perking up. “Wait, the dead girl wasn’t--?”

“The dead girl was not confirmed,” Joly repeated for Jehan.

“Well, what happened to her body?” Feuilly asked, his voice growing high pitched in concern.

Joly shrugged, “I don’t know, this was a long time ago.”

Feuilly’s eyes widened, “What did he do with it?”

“I don’t know!” Joly repeated. “We’re in the canals of Mexico, this is, like, I don’t know how things work!”

“It was the 1950s…”

“Spiders probably ate her,” Gavroche offered, causing Feuilly and Joly both to laugh.

“He didn’t stop at one doll either,” Jehan continued. “Instead, he began to amass perhaps the creepiest collection in the  _ history  _ of collections. Perhaps he felt as though the more dolls he hung up, the more protected he would be from the spirits.

“He’d get along with ol’ Sarah Winchester,” Jehan remarked.

“One could say that,” Joly hesitantly admitted.

“He has a lifelong mission to appease the ghosts--”

“I think it’s more a protection thing,” Joly added. “He just didn’t want to die.”

“He was wearing a Kevlar vest in that case,” Jehan quipped before returning back to their tale. “He would hunt through the canals and trash near the island just to string them up in whatever dilapidated condition he found them in. As the island’s doll population grew bigger, so did its reputation, with visitors trading dolls for produce grown on the island. The compulsion to collect and hang these dolls was so extreme that those close to him believe that he was driven by an unseen force; a force that many believe to be the spirit of the young girl haunting, maybe possessing him to hang the dolls for 50 straight years in isolation on the island.

“Though he initially seemed to hang the dolls out of respect and a desire for protection, close friends claimed that he eventually began to believe the dolls were possessed.”

“You know, Jehan, anytime this story makes me even remotely spooked, I just look to the monkey with the sunglasses over there,” Feuilly admitted with a shrug.

Jehan wheezed, “We got a great shot of that thing.”

“The doll collecting abruptly stopped when this guy’s nephew visited the island to help him with the produce and he found him dead in the canal,” Joly continued. “His body was actually found drowned in the same spot he found the girl.”

“His nephew even claims the dolls ‘move their heads and talk to each other,’” Jehan added.

“I’m just going to play devil’s advocate here since no one else is,” Feuilly started, causing Joly and Jehan to laugh. “They have dolls that piss themselves.”   


“I mean, do you think these dolls look like they remotely have any kind of technological capability?” Joly asked.

“There was a Mickey Mouse over there with a pull string,” Gavroche offered.   
  
“Did it work?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t touch it,” Gavroche shrugged.

Joly furrowed his brow, “I feel like you touched it.”

Jehan nodded their head sadly from behind the camera and said softly, “He definitely touched it.”

“Yeah, I touched it…” Gavorche examined his hands. “Oh god.”

“The guy actually lived a fairly long life,” Jehan clarified, returning back to the issue at hand. “However, some people think that the dolls or the spirits that inhabit them might have killed him.”

“Uhh, sure,” Gavroche replied, cynically. “If that’s what it’s gonna take to get us out of here, then yes, I believe in all of this. Put it on Wikipedia, and let’s leave.”

Feuilly stood up with determination, “I guess it’s time for ghostbusting then, folks.”

Jehan took the camera from its resting place and led the group over to a patch of water on the edge of the island.  “So, this is where they found pretty much everyone who ever showed up dead on the island,” Jehan gestured.

Feuilly crouched down and pointed his flashlight towards the water. “I don’t even know how deep this water is,” he observed. “Like, if someone were to drown in this, I feel like… it looks like it’s shallow, but I guess it’s deceiving.”

Joly kept his distance from the water, but almost as soon as Feuilly stood up, he shivered violently.   


Jehan narrowed their eyes, “What’s wrong, Joly?”   


His eyes widened, “You didn’t hear that?”

“Hear what?” Feuilly asked, stepping away from the water.

“It sounded like a small child…” Joly’s face paled. “Like a little girl. You don’t think--”

“Of course not,” Gavroche dismissed. “You’re paranoid, so obviously your mind is filling in the blanks. A little girl was allegedly found here, so you expect to hear something that’ll confirm that.”

“I guess you’re right…” Joly looked around, “But man is this place creepy.”

Jehan suddenly let out a sharp gasp, causing their companions to turn their heads quickly away from Joly.

“Oh, look, a teddy bear!”

Gavroche rolled his eyes and Joly let out a sigh of relief, holding a hand to his chest. “Don’t scare us like that, Jehan.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Jehan continued to walk closer to the hut for further inspection before recoiling, “Oh, fuck, a spider.”

Feuilly laughed, “Careful, Jehan.”

The group moved around the shelter cautiously, soon coming across its opening where many more dolls hung from the supporting wood and the ceiling. In one of the corners, there was a lump covered with browning blankets.

Joly narrowed his eyes, “Is that a bed?”

“Is that a  _ guy?”  _ Gavroche rephrased, recoiling slightly.

Jehan peeked from behind the camera, “Wait, what?”

They cautiously approached the rectangular area with Jehan and Feuilly in tow.

“Should we poke it with a stick?” Gavroche, seemingly completely serious.

“How about you, Feuilly,” Joly wavered, “you poke ‘em with a stick.”

“Yeah, alright, fine,” Feuilly sighed. He carefully approached it as Joly and Gavroche continued to back up. Feuilly towered over the mass, leaning slightly over it when he said simply, “There’s no one there.” He turned around to look back at his friends, who -- spare Jehan -- were several feet away from him. “This a dream come true for you, Joly?”

“I-- I can’t say that,” Joly strained.

Gavroche pouted and looked to Jehan, “How much longer do we have to be here?”   


“Not to worry, Gav,” Jehan replied cheerfully, “All we have to do is visit the area that has the most heightened activity on the island!”   


“Oh,” Gavorche’s face fell, “Is that all.”

Jehan adjusted the camera in their hands, “Alright, boys, let’s get going.”

Feuilly jogged past Joly to catch up, “Where exactly are we going?”   


“There’s a shed a little further down with all of the most favoured dolls,” Jehan replied, looking down every once in a while for the right places to step. “The original doll’s there too.”

“Great,” Gavorche strained from behind them.

Jehan opened their mouth again, but before they could say anything, the group collectively picked up on a noise. It was subtle at first, but the clicking grew more and more prominent as the group stayed frozen to listen to it.

“Did you hear that?” Feuilly’s eyes darted around.

“Yep, it wasn’t just you,” Jehan gulped.

“I mean-- It was probably just Joly right? And that stupid cane of his?” Gavroche offered, but even he looked pale. “Bossuet’s always trying to get him to get a new one, it’s probably just making all that noise.”

Joly frowned, “I’m literally right here, Gavroche. Do you see me moving my cane right now?”   


Gavorche shook his head.

And then it stopped.

“That was… weird,” Joly remarked wearily.

“It was probably just one of the dolls hitting against something because of the wind,” Gavroche offered, though he gradually grew closer to Feuilly.

“Maybe. But I distinctly remember our research showing that the guy had a cane too…” Jehan muttered. They shook their head, “Nevermind all of that. We’re at the shrine now, anyhow.”

“The  _ shrine?”  _ Gavroche nearly squeaked.

“Well, it’s a shed,” Jehan clarified, “but it’s where he kept his shrine.”

Joly peeked around the corner, “And there’s candles inside. Great.”

The group rounded the corner to the opening of the shed. Once there, Jehan pulled something out of their pocket and handed it to Feuilly.

“I did bring a little doll of my own.”

“That’s really nice of you, Jehan,” Feuilly admitted, taking the doll.

Joly reluctantly entered the shed, followed by the others. It was almost completely covered in dolls of various sizes, shapes, and ages. Joly’s face scrunched up in displeasure as Feuilly maneuvered passed him.

“This seems like a good spot to leave it, right?” Feuilly turned back to Jehan. “Oh! Or should I put it in the lap of the original?”

“This is a fucking nightmare,” Joly strained, visibly distressed.

Jehan panned the flashlight and the camera around until they found what they were looking for. “There’s the original over there.”   


“What? Where?”

“The one that looks--”

_ Bang!  _ The ceiling made a loud, hard crashing noise, causing Feuilly to stumble back.

“What the fuck was that?” Feuilly exclaimed, eyes wide. 

“What the hell just happened?” Jehan wheezed from behind the camera.

“I was just about to put the offering on the original doll, and then--” Feuilly exhaled in disbelief. “I thought the roof was going to collapse on me.”

Joly gasped suddenly, “Holy shit, look at the spider coming out of it.”

Jehan zoomed in on the big black spider coming out of the doll.

“Oh fuck.”

“Yeah, these are fucking huge,” Feuilly admitted, “Let’s go.”   


Jehan panned over to a nice little memorial with a well preserved doll, level headedly, “This was also his favourite doll right here.”

Joly’s eyes darted around, “Okay, I don’t care what his favourite-- Fuck that, let’s go.”

Jehan let out a laugh as Gavorche, Feuilly, and Joly all scrambled out of the shed. Joly shrieked when he nearly ran into the web of a paler looking spider, before he continued to run off.

Jehan, who was extremely amused by their reactions, simply chased after them, only briefly stopping to admire a pair of white cats chilling on the ledge of one of the buildings. “Aw, there’s cats right there,” they remarked, lightly as his friends continued to run away in fear.

Feuilly slowed down a bit before rounding a corner when he stopped abruptly and backed up. “Oh fuck me, there are spiders everywhere.”

Gavroche looked up at a much larger pale spider on their web and said with a sort of awe, “Look at the size of that thing.”

Next thing they knew, Joly was shrieking again because a spider found its way onto his shoe.

Trapped between a rock and a hard place, Feuilly took a deep breath and looked at the path he stopped himself from taking earlier. Sighing, he chose the lesser of the two evils as Jehan filmed Gavroche and Joly freaking out. “I’m gonna go under,” he nodded to Jehan, before dive-running underneath the large spider web that stopped him before, giggling jokingly as he made it through.

Joly and Gavroche went the longer way, looping back around and trying to find the entrance again.

Joly shook his head as Jehan followed close behind, “We’re getting off this island.” He then whipped around, “Wait, where’s Gavroche?”

He jogged up passed Jehan, “I’m right here-- Ah fuck, spiders.” He jumped away from the wall covered in the web, to the safety of Joly.

Jehan watched in amusement as the two continued to struggle their way out of the island maze. There was a lot more screaming before they finally found Feuilly waiting for them at the entrance.

“Okay, we’ve had our fun,” Feuilly mused, tiredly, “Let’s get out of here.”   


Feuilly quickly got back on the boat and revved the engine back up, bringing them on their dark journey back to the mainland. Jehan and Joly took their seats, and Joly took the camera from Jehan.

“So, what are your thoughts, Jehan?” Joly asked, pointing the camera at them.

“I like spiders, I think spiders are good,” Jehan admitted. “I think they’re a great little insect or arachnid, but, uh, fuck everything about that place.”

Joly let out a laugh, and so did Jehan. 

* * *

“I would love to bring Bishop Myriel to this island,” Grantaire told Enjolras back in their setup in one of their apartments. Eponine was still doing something on her computer in the background.

“I don’t think Monseigneur Myriel would be that thrilled about that,” Enjolras replied.

Grantaire chuckled, “I don’t think he would. What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know if you could, uh, exorcise spiders away,” Enjolras cracked a smile.

Grantaire grinned, “Was that a joke?”   


Enjolras smiled to himself, “Maybe.”


End file.
